


Questers: A Timeless Tale

by WanderingAfar



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 20:18:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13061412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingAfar/pseuds/WanderingAfar
Summary: Bookshop owner Merlin Emrys had hoped that a Christmas eve snowstorm would mean he could go home early. But not everything goes to plan. Enter, Arthur Pendragon, the last minute shopper from hell





	Questers: A Timeless Tale

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to winter_mod for organizing Winter Knights. All your hard work is much appreciated. Also, thank you to mywhisperingmind for being my beta reader and rocknvaughn for her great suggestions.

Merlin cursed his misjudgment as he extended his arm to return the book back to its spot on the shelf. Barely an inch out of reach, he was about to step down to re-adjust the ladder when laziness won out. With a golden flash of his eyes, the book slipped from his hand, hovered in the air, and snuggled in among the other texts on crystals and precious stones with magical properties. He darted a glance towards the front of the shop, silently admonishing himself for not being more mindful, then sighed in relief to find no last-minute holiday shoppers peering through the two bay windows bracketing the front door. Instead, he saw an empty street and the white of a London blizzard that had been growing in intensity since noon. It was time to close.

Merlin had almost considered not opening the shop today but for the fact that he had several customers coming in to pick up special orders. The last of these customers had reluctantly left the warmth of the shop to step out into the chilling wind and drifting snow by two o’clock. Soon after, he had sent Molly, his sole employee, home. For the past two hours, the only sounds in the store had been the music from BBC’s Christmas Eve Concert, and the gentle turn of pages as he browsed through old manuscripts acquired three days ago at the Donaldson estate sale. It was these books that held him captive when he should have closed up early and headed home himself. 

He couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy at his rare luck when he had beaten Bartholomew’s Books to the sale at Ilchester Place. Merlin was walking out the door, carrying two totes filled with manuscripts and esoteric works, when he ran into Bartholomew’s wiry, white-haired owner, Trevor Dunlop. The older man’s pinched and always determined face fell when he recognized his competitor and realized this day he would not be adding to his already impressive alternative spirituality, British history, and folklore sections. Dunlop had no doubt that Merlin’s keen eye would ensure that anything worth having would not be left behind. Merlin winked at the man as he passed and couldn’t help but grin when he heard a gravelly, whispered curse in response. There was an even louder curse as the old man noticed Molly coming up behind Merlin, pulled an overflowing cart with more rare finds.  

It would take days to go through all the books and Merlin, although regretting the loss of holiday sales, was pleased for the quiet the storm provided. He had stopped to give his eyes a break, stretch his stiff muscles and re-shelf books that patrons had left here and there around the shop. Now, as he stepped down off the ladder, the manuscripts beckoned him to return to his private office in the back. Ignoring the almost blinding blizzard out front that warned him if he didn’t leave soon he might be spending the night in said office, he made his way to his desk. 

Unlike the front of his shop, with its perfectly organized shelves and tidy appearance, his snug, bordering on cramped, office was a confusion of books and papers that lay in piles at all angles on bookshelves and the floor. Pens, pencils, paperclips, and small pieces of paper with to-do lists and special orders were strewn over his desk. The drawers bulged with receipts that often escaped to join the dust bunnies under the desk whenever Merlin tried to close them. 

Merlin sighed. Already his time spent going through the new acquisitions had delayed his closing chores and he wouldn’t arrive home for at least another hour.  He made his way to the front of the shop, ignoring the pull to rearrange those books on the shelves that had been dislocated by customers. Without even looking, he could sense when books were misplaced. Just as he knew when they were in the wrong person’s hands, and he would find ways to deter customers from taking home with books that clearly weren’t meant for them. He picked up a lone book from a table. It tingled in his hand and he placed down at the cover jacket, _Mist-Filled Path_. Merlin frowned as he resolutely put the book back on the shelf. _I guess he wasn’t quite ready for you_. Shaking his head he returned to the front counter, wondering where he had been when the customer had come in.

Molly couldn’t have been a better employee. But she didn’t have magic and had no way of matching books to customers, beyond the customers’ admitted interests. To that end, he was loath to take a break or leave the shop for lunch. Not that it happened with every person who walked in the shop. Most who stepped in off the street knew just what they wanted, or sometimes it was curious tourists who dropped in for a crystal, candle, or celtic memento. Merlin could tell almost immediately when the customer was a true seeker. They were the ones who seemed a bit lost and unsure why they had been drawn to the small metaphysical store in the often overlooked alley not far from Charing Cross Road.

Just as he was flipping the chipped wooden sign in the door to read “closed.” the phone rang.  Going over to the desk, he reached across the counter, swearing as he knocking two books to the floor, and grabbed the receiver, “Questers.” 

On the other end of the line, he heard the worried voice of his neighbor. “Merlin, I hope you aren’t planning on staying too late. The weather is getting worse.” 

Alice didn’t need to point that out. Merlin was well aware as he took in the view of the darkening street outside. From what he could see all the other stores were closed. Throughout the afternoon, one by one the lights had gone out in each of the windows as shop owners abandoned their hopes of a lucrative holiday. The last to close was Sebastian’s Wine and Spirits directly across the street, and now snow piled up at its door and the display of wines had disappeared behind the frosted glass. 

“Alice, I promise I’ll be on my way soon. I’m just closing up.” 

“Oh, good. I am fixing a nice dinner for us. I don’t want you eating out of a box on Christmas Eve.” 

Merlin smiled. He knew that as much as she wanted to make sure he wasn’t holed up in his flat by himself, she was also hoping for company. He would have preferred to be alone with a good book, some wine, a cozy fire, and the company of Jennie, a small tabby with especially soft fur who he had named after the cat in Paul Gallico’s story. Merlin had found her hungry and in bad shape outside his flat two years earlier and she had now pretty much taken over his life and his favorite chair. He really didn’t mind spending the holidays that way…in fact, he enjoyed it. But he also enjoyed Alice’s company. 

“I promise I will be there within the hour. I’ll ring you just before I leave. There’s really no need to worry. Santa may have Rudolph, but I have magic to guide my way.” Alice laughed and he could hear the clattering of dishes in the background. “Just don’t go to too much trouble.” He was sure those words fell on deaf ears and that there would be enough food to feed a crowd when he arrived.

Merlin hung up the receiver and retrieved the two books off of the floor, carefully inspecting them for damage. They should have gone home today, but the customer had called to say he wouldn’t be able to make it until after the holidays. Merlin moved his backpack out from under the counter to make room for the books. He returned to his office, reminding himself that he would have time for some of his own reading tonight and tomorrow. He glanced over the chaos on his desk and his hand paused over a book he had been studying for the past month, _Music and the Elemental Psyche: A Practical Guide to Music and Changing Consciousness._ But he shook his head. He needed a break. Instead, he grabbed the newest Jack Reacher novel and stuffed it into his backpack. 

Merlin reached for the open tin of Alice’s cookies on his desk. The sugar cookie shaped like a Christmas tree was tempting, but he chose the gingerbread man and thoughtfully chewed a leg while mentally ticking off the list of things he still had to get to: c _ount cash in drawer, lock drawer in safe, lock up rare bookcase, process two new mail orders, make list for—_

The jangle of the shop’s tarnished brass bell caught him off guard.

Merlin froze. _Shit, I forgot to lock the door._

He called out. “We’re closed.” 

 _Can’t people read?_  

After a few minutes, Merlin returned to his list when he realized that he hadn’t heard the bell ring again. Annoyed, he walked up front. 

The man standing just inside the door seemed to have not heard Merlin, or more likely had decided to ignore him. But one thing was clear…he didn’t seem to be planning on leaving anytime soon. He had removed his gloves and was loosening his scarf out from under a camel coat that must have cost close to Merlin’s monthly income.

“I’m sorry, we’re closed.” Merlin paused but was unsure if he was waiting for an answer or just taking in the blue eyes and golden hair, damp from melting snowflakes. 

The man looked around for a minute. “I need a gift.” 

“Okaaaay,” Merlin drawled out, wondering if this guy might be hard of hearing. He spoke up a little louder. “Fine, but I need to close shortly. I’ll just be wrapping things up here while you look.” 

Merlin waited to see if the man might just take the hint and leave. 

He didn’t. 

Merlin sighed, slipped behind the counter and began packaging up two books for mailing as the man aimlessly strolled around the shop. Every few minutes he would pull a book off the shelf, briefly glance at the cover, roll his eyes or snort, and then return it to its place. 

Merlin looked outside. The wind had picked up and snow was coming down harder. He wondered if he should call Alice to let her know he would be later than expected. No, he wouldn’t do that. This was his domain and he could control this situation. He’d have the man on his way in ten minutes--fifteen minutes, at the most. 

There was the sound of a book thumping shut, “What a bunch of drivel.”

Okay, probably twenty.

Merlin placed the two wrapped books to the side, dropped a pen into the cylindrical holder and moved on to organizing receipts. The customer had made his way through the store until he was back near the front. After a few minutes, Merlin looked up to see the man pick up a book with a bright red title, flip through the pages, stopping to look at the illustrations. He closed the book and kept it. Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. But then the man retreated to the back of the store. 

Wanting to hurry things along, Merlin spoke up, “Perhaps I could help you. What are you looking for?” 

“A gift for a woman,” came the muffled response as the blond disappeared into the mythology section.

“Girlfriend, wife?” 

“Sister.”

“Well, what does your sister like?” 

“What?”

Merlin raised his voice. “I said, what does your sister like to read?”  Merlin swept up some wrapping paper that Molly had dropped on the floor earlier in the day. “What are her interests?”

The man appeared at the front of the store again and looked around, not really focusing on anything in particular, “She likes this kind of stuff.” 

Merlin rolled his eyes. _This kind of stuff._

Often Merlin would see curious looks on his customers’ faces, as if not quite sure what brought them to Quester’s. They had passed the store many times without taking notice of it. If asked, they might not even have remembered it being there. But on that day, something would make them slow down and look up at the old wooden sign and the window filled with mystical books, crystals, and a dragon wind chime. It wasn’t so much the shop that caught their attention, but something within themselves. When they stepped through the door, there would be a welcoming warm comforting feeling that would coax them to stay. One sniff of Merlin’s spiced herbal tea and that pressing appointment didn’t seem so important anymore. Books would sing to them and then one of two large overstuffed chairs would entice them to settle in for a good read. If one of those chairs wasn’t available there was the heavy oak table layered with old books and manuscripts that looked as if they had been left by philosophers, artists and scientists throughout the ages, when in actuality both tables were meticulously cleared off each evening, to make ready for the next day. 

Customers would find a book, grab some tea, claim a favorite spot, and then lose themselves for hours in one or more of the many esoteric books the shop offered. And if they couldn’t find the right book, Merlin would be by their side, leading the customer down the aisles to some great new discovery. From the moment they met him, he was a guide who they trusted and with whom they felt comfortable sharing their secrets and feelings because they sensed he was about to help them unearth the mysteries of the universe. Or, at least the mysteries of their internal universe. These people were spiritual seekers who dreamed of discovering their own souls through the souls of books.

The man now standing in Merlin’s bookstore was _not_ one of those people and frankly, he was getting on Merlin’s nerves.

The customer continued making his way around the shop, haphazardly picking up one book after another, looking, but not really. Merlin’s patience was waning. he rubbed his eyes, wondering if Alice had started to worry. Thinking, _He has a book. What else could he be looking for?_

“Maybe if you could tell me a little bit about your sister, I could help.” 

The man jumped. He hadn’t realized Merlin had come up behind him. He turned and for the first time fixed his startling blue eyes on the bookstore’s owner. He regarded Merlin for a minute. Then, running his hand through his hair in frustration, “I don’t know. She is difficult to buy gifts for.” 

“Well, it isn’t always easy to find just the right book. Um, there’s a nice jewelry store two blocks down.” _Which probably closed hours ago because that owner had the good sense to go home early._ “Have you tried there?”

The man shook his head and gritted his teeth. “That’s the problem. I get her jewelry every year. She told me I was predictable and challenged me to be a little more creative.” Arthur looked away scowling and eyed the many shelves as if they were his mortal enemies.

Merlin turned to hide a smile. G _ood for her_. Clearly, when trying to please others, Golden Boy was used to relying on his wallet instead of his head, or heart for that matter. Merlin decided to take pity and help Mr. I-waited-until-the-last-minute-to-buy-a-gift-because-I-don’t-know-what-my-sister-really-likes-and-I’ll-be-damned-if-I-am-going-to-let-her-know-that

“Can you think of books that she has now, or has bought in the past?” 

The man considered for a moment.  “I…Well, she….No, I really can’t.”

The guy was useless…hot as hell, but useless. Merlin wondered if he would be home in time for breakfast.

The man started to walk away, in search of more books. 

In a desperate attempt to move things along, Merlin called out, “What is her name?” 

“Arthur.”

“Your sister’s name is Arthur?”

The man looked back confused. “What? No. My name is Arthur.”

Merlin rubbed his eyes. “Okay Arthur, let’s see if I can help you. What’s your sister’s name and do you happen to have a picture of her”?

“Wha…?  Why?” Arthur eyed him suspiciously.

“Well…sometimes I can get a…” He chose his words carefully and spoke nonchalantly, “…sense…for what others might…like.”

Arthur snorted. “Oh, you are one of those.” 

Merlin’s eyebrows went up and he was on the verge of saying, Merry Fucking Christmas and sending this ass on his way. Instead, he took a deep breath. “Just bear with me. What do you have to lose? And maybe we’ll find a half decent book for your sister.”

Arthur smirked and looked like he was about to say something more but instead reached into his coat and pulled out his phone. He tapped his fingers through some photos, stopped at one and handed the phone to Merlin. “Her name is Morgana.” 

The picture was of two people: a man probably in his 60s who might have been Arthur’s father and who certainly had that same “I own the world” look about him. And, a woman who looked like she was in her late 20s. The woman was quite beautiful with long raven hair, bright eyes with a touch of sadness, and lovely smile. 

The holidays were always exhausting for Merlin. Normally, the person he chose a book for was right in front of him. But during the holidays, when most customers were buying gifts for friends or family, his magic had to stretch out beyond the person standing in front of him to sense a someone he had never met. Usually, as in this case, trying to sort through the customer’s mind to get to the other person was near impossible. Their thoughts were too chaotic and they barely knew what they needed themselves, never mind understanding the hearts of others. So, he would ask for a name and a picture. He rather disliked doing this as it made him feel like a slick carney. But Merlin was such an endearing chap that most just saw it as part of the new age charm. 

And that was another thing that Merlin disliked…the term “new-age.” There was nothing he did that was new. In fact, what he did came from a very ancient place--a place in himself that he was not aware of until he walked into Questers one day during a holiday break from King’s College where he was a computer science major in his second year. It was that day that he met the gruff old man who was to become his friend and mentor.

“Anything?” Arthur said, partly with doubt and partly with hope because he really did want to get the damned gift and get home.

“Shhh. I’m trying to concentrate.” Merlin closed his eyes to shut out the blue-eyed distraction. 

Arthur sighed and shuffled his feet impatiently, but shut up.

Merlin opened his eyes and focused on the woman in the picture. He reached out with his magic until he came across a terrified woman who had special gifts of her own. Merlin loved when he found someone with a bit of magic. It always took him by surprise and it made things so much easier. But hers was more than a bit. She had a natural ability to foresee the future. He could sense that this ability had been with her for many lifetimes. Each time she had run from it terrified, rejecting it, and hiding it from others. 

Merlin’s awareness returned to the shop and he regarded Arthur for a moment. He wasn’t getting much of any internal impression from him at all. Must have been that heavy armor of entitlement getting in the way. 

Merlin handed the phone back to Arthur, “Your sister is quite special.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Yeah, if you call high drama and a talent for driving me crazy, special.” 

 _He doesn’t know._ Arthur did not know about his sister’s magic. 

“I have a couple of ideas.” Merlin started down between a row of books with Arthur following on his heels. Every time Merlin stopped, Arthur was right there looking over his shoulder. 

Merlin turned, nearly bumping into Arthur. This would not do. Merlin stepped around Arthur and motioned towards a small table at the front of the store where there was hot water, mismatched cups and an assortment of teas. “Why don’t you go pour yourself a cup of tea or hot chocolate and relax while I look.”  

Arthur seemed to consider Merlin’s suggestion.

“It won’t take too long, but I need a minute to think.” _And, I need you not to be standing so close because frankly, you are flustering me._

Arthur was about to argue, but it had been a long day and he craved a few moments off of his feet. He was also expected at his father’s tonight and the thought of that in itself was exhausting. So, the idea of letting someone else relieve him of the extra burden of finding his sister a gift was something that very much appealed to him at the moment. 

Merlin began the hunt for Morgana’s gift, wishing Gaius were there to help him understand the power he had just witnessed. The swirling mass of magic that was locked inside this woman took Merlin off guard. She had no idea what it was or how it could help her and others, so she allowed fear to rule her magic. He could have used the old man’s guidance--guidance that he had missed ever since his friend’s death three years back.

It had been Gaius who helped Merlin find his purpose. Before that, his magic had been erratic and out of control. Questers and his friendship with Gaius were an oasis from the crazy world of academia, social activities, and his own confusion about his developing power. Gaius always seemed to know just what Merlin needed to hear or read. Merlin would spend hours doing homework at the bookstore--the only place where he felt he could truly be himself. Then one day, Gaius casually placed a book on magic at the table where Merlin was sitting. It was then that he realized that Gaius knew and it was in that moment that everything changed for Merlin. 

Not long after, Gaius offered him a job, “Just a part-time position, my boy, to help you with those bills.” 

Merlin accepted the position. Gaius was delighted and gave him flexible hours. Merlin was quite sure that Gaius really didn’t need as much help as he made out and found himself spending more time studying old manuscripts in the back room than working. When the shop was quiet, he would spend hours talking to Gaius over tea about magic and what Gaius would refer to as _Merlin’s destiny_. “You’re destined to help people find their place in the world.” 

Merlin liked that idea and he also found he loved books, and gradually drifted from the world of computer science to coursework on literature. In the end, he changed his major from computer science to the classics and began studying ancient languages, philosophy, and comparative religion. 

Merlin did his graduate work at Oxford with plans to teach. But before that, he wanted to travel and visit all the places he had read about. His studies were peppered with holidays when he would return to London where he stayed with Gaius and his wife, Alice. On most days, he would help out at Questers. 

During the last holiday of his final year, Gaius had sat him down one night, just after closing and said, “Merlin when you are done with school I want you to come and help me run the store.” 

If it weren’t for the sincere look on Gaius’s face, Merlin would have laughed. He gently reminded Gaius, “I can’t spend my life working in a bookstore. I have a degree and a career. I’m going to teach at a college.”

Gaius smiled. “My boy, you have the opportunity to do so much more than that here.”

“What could I possibly do in a bookshop that would come close to what I can accomplish out in the world?”

Gaius sighed, “I have taught you almost everything I know about books and magic. This is your destiny. Your work here will change the world.” 

Without meaning to, Merlin snorted. Gaius frowned. “You have spent your years here with your head in books, but what else have you learned?” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“What else happens in this shop, Merlin?”

Merlin looked at his friend with confusion. Sadness and frustration played across Gaius’s face until he stood up resolved. “You have learned nothing. Go do what you think you must and don’t return to the shop until you have figured this out.” 

It was two years before Merlin returned to Questers. During his last few months at school, he was angry and hurt. His ego refused to allow him to imagine that Gaius had anything of importance to teach him about the world. After Merlin graduated he was too busy to think much about Questers or what Gaius had said. He was doing exactly what he wanted. He was traveling and discovering the world while applying for teaching positions. But Merlin also struggled with his power. Without Gaius’s guidance, he searched, without much success, for ways to understand his magic. He often felt its strength surge through his body, and yet had no idea where to direct it. 

After almost two years of traveling, it was the pain of others that led him back home. Everywhere he went, he saw people struggle with fear, sadness, and anger--people who lashed out at the world because they were lost, without direction. He wanted to help them. It made him even more aware of his own lack of direction with his magic. Once, Gaius had been there for him. Gaius had been there for other people too—people who lost their way. He had made small gestures that somehow had seemed to dramatically put people on the correct path. Suddenly, Gaius’s words took on a whole new meaning.

When he next stood in the doorway of the shop, Gaius barely looked up when he said, “So, did you figure it out?” As if only minutes had passed since the question had been posed to Merlin. 

It was then that the training began in earnest. Gaius’s most important lesson was that it was in directing people to their own destinies Merlin would find his own fulfillment. Merlin had a year to learn. Because it was a year to the day that he returned to Questers that Gaius died, leaving behind a grieving wife and a young man he had loved and treated like a son. 

And now on this Christmas Eve, as _The Little Drummer Boy_ played over the radio,  Merlin made his way through the stacks of books wanting desperately to help a scared young woman who had so much to give to the world. He called on his magic as he entered each row, his eyes glowing gold. Some books would respond with a shimmer. They would quiver as if entreating him to choose them. Holding Morgana in his mind, he caressed the spines of those books. The ones he rejected would still and the glow would dim. Finally, he chose two that he knew would resonate with her…perhaps even help ease her fear. Merlin smiled knowing he had found just the right books. Gaius had been right. He was more fulfilled than he could ever imagine when he used his magic to help others find their way.

Once Merlin had discovered his ability to help those in need through his job, he found creative ways to do so. When people refused to purchase books Merlin chose for them, he would often give them away for free. Many customers would return, sometimes months later, eager to now pay for the book while excitedly sharing epiphanies garnered from their readings. He would accept the money and smile. When he came across a homeless man or woman on the street Merlin would return later with the gift of a special book, a sandwich and drink, and encouraging words. Often the poor soul would be gone within a month only to return to Questers wearing clean clothes and news of a job and a home. Or he would hear from others that the person had cleaned up from a drug or alcohol addiction. 

Then there was Claire. She had wandered into the store begging for money one freezing January afternoon. Merlin had Molly go to the pub on the corner and pick up some hot food. When he handed her soup and a sandwich, along with a book, she told him she could not read. So, every day at noon, for the next year, Claire came into the bookstore where Merlin shared his lunch with her and taught her to read. Merlin then found a city program that helped the homeless with education. He thought his heart would explode with happiness when Claire told him that she was going back to school with the hopes of someday becoming a librarian. Nobody seemed to notice that she worked through her classes with extraordinary speed. But she did often wonder why Merlin’s eyes seemed to sparkle with gold each time he shook her hand to congratulate her on passing another level.    

With books in hand, Merlin returned to the front of the shop. Arthur was sitting comfortably in the chair by the window, sipping hot tea and engrossed in the book he had been carrying around the store. The man was decidedly more relaxed. He was even more handsome when his face wasn’t knotted in worry. Hell, he was gorgeous no matter what. _Shut up, Merlin_. _The man’s a pompous arse._

Arthur was so absorbed in his reading that when Merlin approached, he didn’t look up.  Merlin sat down across from him, waiting until he had Arthur’s attention and then and placed the books side by side on the table next to Arthur. “I think she will like these.” 

Arthur glanced down and read the titles out loud. “ _The Nature of Dreams_ ” “ _Sight through the Ages_.” He looked up at Merlin with a confused expression. 

“Is there something wrong?” Merlin asked.

“I thought you were going to find…a coffee table book. You know, with birds or something.”

Merlin’s eyebrows shot up. “Birds?” 

“Yeah, birds….or…something” 

Merlin blinked. “Why would I choose a book with birds? Does your sister like birds?”

“I don’t know, she likes pretty things and birds are…” Arthur stopped talking and looked away.

Merlin paused and stared at Arthur for a moment, then said, “Do you want me to find a book about birds?” 

Arthur blushed and seemed a bit lost, which Merlin hated to admit was quite endearing. “Uh, no… I’m sure these will be fine.”

Merlin collected the books and stood up. “Look, I promise she will like the these. If she doesn’t, she can come back in and pick out some other books. If nothing else, she won’t be expecting these from you.”

“Clearly,” Arthur said with a bit of disdain. 

Merlin clenched his teeth. _Why did I even bother?_

Arthur thoughtfully took another sip of tea and slowly put down the cup. Merlin wondered what he was waiting for.

Merlin hurried over to the cash register. Turning around, he was relieved to see Arthur had stood up and was putting on his coat. Behind Arthur, Merlin could see that the snow was still steadily falling.

Arthur came up to the counter and slipped his wallet out of his coat. Merlin added up the order and then gestured to the third book still in Arthur’s hand. “Did you want that one too?” 

“No, those will be fine.” and Arthur placed the book to the side.

“That will be forty-six pounds.” 

Merlin took the cash that Arthur handed him and made change. He then brought out the Currier and Ives decorated wrapping paper. As he reached for the scissors, he paused and smiled. Returning the wrapping paper back to its place, he then pulled out the yellow Joel Drew fabric with sparrows that Molly had purchased last spring. Arthur coughed and Merlin could have sworn it was to cover up a laugh. He wrapped the books and tucked them into a plastic bag and handed it to Arthur who looked relieved to be done with his shopping. 

Merlin followed Arthur to the door, hoping to lock up quickly before any other late shoppers might appear. Arthur slowly put on his gloves while Merlin waited. And then as if the man couldn’t do more than one thing at a time, he turned, looked around the store, paused and wished Merlin a Merry Christmas. 

Merlin turned the knob and opened the door. The snow and cold forced their way in as Merlin said, “Merry Christmas to you, too. Be careful out there.”

With a jangle of the bell, the door closed. _Silent Night_ was just finishing up and in that moment between the end of one song and the beginning notes of another, it felt that the music and something familiar and comforting had left with Arthur. The moment passed and another piece of music floated through the shop. Merlin went to close up.

Too tired to count the cash drawer, Merlin took it back to the safe. He grabbed his backpack and coat, turned off the radio—cutting off Mozart’s _Sleigh Ride from Three German Dances_ —turned out the light to his office, shut the door, and headed to the front.

As Merlin passed the counter, his eye caught the book that Arthur had left behind. Not counting the money was one thing, but Merlin never left a book out overnight. He picked it up and saw it was a children’s book. Merlin smiled. So often people gravitated towards the books from their childhood. Even Mr. Pompous Arse was unable to resist those tender memories. As he carried it towards the children’s section, he felt a warm heat coming from the cover. He looked down and it was glowing, causing a strange tingling sensation to shoot into his hands, up his arms and spread out in waves through his body. 

For a moment Merlin couldn’t speak. He gripped the book, frozen in surprise. 

Then he gasped, “What?…No, Oh my God.” Heart racing he cried out, “Wait.” 

Dropping his backpack and coat, Merlin ran to the door. The locked door. He swore and calling out, “Wait, wait…please wait.” 

Fumbling with the lock, Merlin’s hands were shaking and it felt as if hours were passing. Finally, with a twist and a push, the door opened and Merlin fell out into the street, calling loudly for Arthur to return. “Arthur, wait, wait.” 

He slipped on a patch of ice grunting out “Wait!” and catching himself before he fell. In the middle of the street, he looked wildly around, frantically trying to remember the direction Arthur had gone. Then he saw the footprints and ran to the corner. Looking up and down Charing Cross Road. Merlin’s throat hurt as he fought through the sharp pain of cold to be heard. “Wait, Arthur!”  

Finally, he stopped calling. Holding his breath, Merlin hoped to hear the footsteps of Arthur returning. But the only sound was the soft prickly tingle of snowflakes meeting the ground and the release of his own ragged breath when he couldn’t hold it any longer.  Looking down, he saw the fresh tracks of a car that had been heading towards Oxford Street.

Merlin shivered. He was alone…lost.

“Wait,” he whispered one last time as he looked down at the book in his hand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
